Welcome, Lydia!

I think that the number one lesson that God is teaching me through parenting so far is that I am not the one who is in control of my children or their lives. I know that I've been entrusted with the huge responsibility to parent my little ones wisely, but ultimately I can't control everything they do. This fact is simultaneously freeing and frightening - nothing illustrates this more for me right now than the story of my sweet Lydia's birth this past Tuesday.

The last few months of my pregnancy with Lydia have been a little hectic, to say the least. Moving to a different state, sojourning in various temporary living situations, unpacking and settling into a new home, beginning a new routine and lifestyle, trying to find a new sense of community, and raising a rapidly-developing, strong-willed toddler all combined to make me feel somewhat less prepared for Lydia's arrival than I wanted to be. As my due date approached, though, Steve and I were deeply blessed by seeing how God worked to provide for some of our bigger support needs and surround us with people who would care for us during this busy time.

As the end of my pregnancy approached, I was able to complete a few tasks that helped me feel more in control of my situation. We toured the labor & delivery unit at the local hospital, set up the baby's bassinet, washed tiny newborn clothes, and unpacked supplies. I updated the birth plan that I used with Luke and attached it to cute candy bags to hand out to the hospital staff who would care for us. I spent time showing Luke videos of fetal development and newborns to help him understand what was going on in Mommy's tummy and what his new sister would sound like. All of these little things gave me a sense that I was ready for this new baby's arrival.

I know that often when women come to the hospital with a "birth plan" the nurses know to expect that very little about the birth will actually go as planned (despite everyone's efforts to make it so). However, I felt that I had outlined a broad enough birth plan to provide wiggle room for all kinds of scenarios. After all, Luke's natural, unmedicated birth followed my plan pretty closely, and I was grateful that I had the opportunity to let the hospital staff know some of my "wants" both during labor and after Luke's arrival. Little did I know that, with Lydia, the only part of her birth that would go as planned is that I would have a completely all-natural unmedicated delivery again.

For the past couple of weeks, I had been experiencing "false labor" - the strong Braxton Hicks contractions that came when I walked around, but eventually stopped when I rested. I even had a night about a week prior to Lydia's birth where I was up all night with these type of contractions which eventually stopped. I wasn't concerned with this, though. I had the exact same experience towards the end of pregnancy with Luke, and knew not to get really excited until the contractions came at regular intervals, were increasingly painful, and stuck around for more than a couple of hours. So, when I had some consistent 8-minute apart cramps on Monday night after taking Luke on a walk to the playground down the street, I knew I should wait it out for a while to see what happened. Sure enough, those contractions lasted until about my bedtime and then subsided.

When I woke again at 2am with consistent cramping again, though, I had the sense that maybe (finally!) this was the real deal. As I timed the contractions, I saw that they still weren't on-the-dot regular but were coming at intervals of 5 1/2 to 8 1/2 minutes apart. I told Steve that I thought we might be in the beginning phase of true labor, and decided to take a shower to relax and see if, indeed, these contractions kept coming. With Luke, I was in labor for about 26 hours, so Steve and I fully expected to be in this process for the long haul again.

The contractions lasted (although at inconsistant intervals, and not super-painful), through the early morning. I called my parents to let them know that I thought today would be the day - they planned to be able to arrive at our place by early afternoon which (given our long labor experience with Luke) seemed to be just about the right time that Steve and I would probably head to the hospital. I felt fine, and Steve had a couple of loose ends to tie up at his office before starting paternity leave, so we made the decision to have our sweet friend/grandma-on-call, Jo, come stay with Luke and I while I labored at home in the morning. (Now, remember that Steve's office is less than a 5 minute drive from our house here on base, so it seemed fine for him to run over there for a few hours). I was thankful that Jo could come to stay with me - Luke adores her, and I knew that, with her experience of having five children herself, she would be a good person to have around while I was in early labor.

Once Jo arrived at about 8 in the morning she helped me give Luke breakfast and dress him for the day. I stayed mostly on my feet and felt the urge to bustle around doing small tasks like emptying my dishwasher and making sure that the last-minute items were tucked into our hospital bags. After about 45 minutes of this activity, my contractions were definitely getting stronger, and I sat down to take a rest. I remember telling Jo "I've never been so happy to be in so much pain!". I began timing the contractions again, just to check my progress, and found that they were still between 5 1/2 and 8 minutes apart. These contractions were definitely becoming quite painful, though, and I told Jo that I might go try to sit in my bath for a while to rest, hoping that the warm water would relieve my pain. First, though, I decided to try to go to the bathroom - it felt like I might need to have a bowel movement, and that might also help me feel a little better.

Imagine my surprise when, instead of producing a bowel movement, my urge to push turned incredibly painful and I suddenly was experiencing the burning sensation I remembered from when Luke was crowning during his birth. I reached down and was shocked to feel a smooth bulge that I realized was my still fluid-filled amniotic sac. In a state of confusion as I looked at that silvery membrane, I felt a little frightened and wondered "What in the world do I do now!? Can I stop this?! Maybe if I just pant instead of push...?" But... even as the reality of what was happening began to register in my brain I experienced another severe contraction accompanied by the uncontrollable urge to push. With a gentle sploosh my water broke and I suddenly was touching the hard top of my baby's skull. I yelled for Jo, telling her that my water just broke and that the baby's head was right there - I'm sure she was a surprised as I was! Jo stayed remarkably calm for me, making a quick call to Steve to let him know to rush home, fielding a call from my mom who happened to call right at that moment as well, then calling 911.

When giving birth to Luke, I pushed for an hour and a half, finally needing a big episotomy to help ease his 9lb body into the world. Lydia had different plans. As another contraction gripped my body, I realized that I did not want my baby to be born into the toilet so I stood up and stepped into the middle of our bathroom. With the next contraction, my beautiful daughter slid from my body and into my arms.

The first thing I noticed about Lydia was that her umbilical cord was wrapped tightly in a knot around her neck, and that she was dusky and limp. Honestly, I wasn't sure that she was even alive, even though I had felt her kicking in between my contractions just minutes ago. The second thing I noticed was her full head of thick dark hair. The moments after Lydia's birth are some of the most intense I've ever experienced - I was simultaneously a mother and a neonatal nurse, everything primal in me and every ounce of my advanced nursing knowledge came together with the sole focus of getting my new baby to cry. I couldn't unloop the umbilical cord from around Lydia's neck, so I yelled for Jo to find me scissors in the kitchen so that I could cut the cord. After cutting the cord, I placed Lydia onto the bathroom counter and continued to attempt to stimulate her, rubbing her and flicking the soles of her feet in an attempt to make her cry. She remained limp and cyanotic, so I covered her tiny mouth and nose with my mouth and gave her a small puff of breath. Looking back, I'm so thankful that I had practiced these very skills so many hundreds of times as a nurse, so when this time came what I did felt reflexive. After the breath, Lydia moved her arms a little and let out a small coughing cry, but quickly became limp again. Since she didn't respond to my continual stimulation, I gave her another little breath - after that second breath she finally began to cry stronger and become pink. I have never heard such a sweet sound as that tiny cry.

About this time, Steve rushed in the door - he says that the first thing I said to him was "Look at all of her hair!" Haha! I was truly in a daze at this point! I think I then told him that she had been born with her cord wrapped around her neck and that I had to give her a couple of breaths before she started crying. After checking if I was ok (I'm sure I looked awful - standing half naked in a pool of blood and amniotic fluid, with a severed umbilical cord still hanging from me and blood all over my face from the breaths I had given our daughter), my incredibly quick-thinking and calm husband rushed upstairs to get towels to wrap Lydia in to keep her warm. Steve encouraged me to put Lydia skin-to skin on my chest (I married a smart one!) then wrapped us in a beach towel as EMS personal arrived and began to provide care for Lydia and I.

Poor Luke had witnessed everything from the living room, and was freaking out as I was wheeled out of the house in a stretcher. I knew he was in good hands, though, and trusted that Jo would snuggle him and give him a lot of love. I was so thankful to hear Lydia crying angrily as I was placed into the ambulance next to her. The paramedic who was holding her told me that she was doing well and that her blood glucose was 80. From that time on, Lydia has had no residual effects from her dramatic birth. She began breastfeeding during the ambulance ride (and hasn't stopped since!). She weighed in at 7lbs 14oz, 21 inches long, and has been declared "absolutely perfect" by every pediatric practitioner who has checked on her.

It has taken me several days to even begin to process everything that happened so quickly. Many people have told me that I am a superwoman, but I really don't feel that way. During Lydia's birth and the moments after, I never felt so vulnerable and out-of-control in my life. Throughout the rapid drama of those moments, the thought "Jesus was born like this", played itself over and over in my mind - I think that the Lord was reminding me that He is in control, even when a birth does not happen at all as planned. The combination of sleepless nights and postpartum hormones has made me feel that I put my baby in unnecessary danger by laboring too long at home (even though my rational brain knows that is not the case).

As I hold my precious daughter now, reveling in the exquisite perfection of her tiny features, I feel overwhelming gratitude. First, I am grateful to the God of the Universe who gave and sustains the life of this child. I am also so thankful for our dear friend Jo, who was there in my moment of deepest need. Little did I know that January 29 was also Jo's birthday - she and Lydia will be linked in a special way for the rest of Lydia's life. I am grateful for all of my nurse mentors at Levine Children's NPCN and NICN units - although I hated the mock codes that we had to do at the most inopportune times, I know that all of that practice helped save my daughter's life. I am thankful for the security force team and EMS workers who provided initial medical care to Lydia and I, and the firefighters who stayed behind after I was whisked away to the hospital and cleaned up the huge mess in my bathroom. And, definitely not least, I am so thankful for my calm, strong, quick-thinking husband - he is my rock, an amazing daddy, and my perfect partner for both crazy times and fun times.

Lydia - As you grow up hearing this story of your dramatic entrance into this world, I hope you always understand that God has you securely in his hands. I don't know what you will face in your life, sweet baby, and I won't always be able to stop scary things from happening to you (or you from doing scary things!). I can be certain, though, that God is sovereign over your life, and that I can trust Him to take care of you wherever life takes you.

Settling In

Have you ever spent so much time hoping and praying for something to happen that, when it does, you are left with a sense that it can't possibly be happening to you? That might be the best way to describe how Steve and I have felt for the past couple of months. The whirlwind of changes that we have experienced lately have left us a little breathless and in complete awe of what God is doing in our lives.

To catch all of you up, Steve graduated COT at the beginning of Nov and we had a joyful reunion before packing both of our vehicles to the brim and heading east to Goldsboro, NC. I have never visited eastern NC before (except when passing through on the beach-bound highway), so it was interesting to see this part of a state that I have called home for the majority of my life. There isn't much to impress or dazzle out here in Goldsboro, but I'm sure I will grow to love the wide-reaching cotton fields and broad Carolina-blue sky. We also are hoping to be able to take advantage of being nearer to the coast, and look forward to learning more about the rich history of this area.

Our new home, Seymour-Johnson AFB, has been a very nice place to live so far. There are a lot of open park-like spaces with filled with spreading oak trees that hold the promise of fun shady picnics in the future. The base also has many great amenities for families such as an indoor fighter-jet-themed playground, many outdoor playgrounds, pools & splash pads (it will be so fun to try those out in the summer!), and a library with a large children's room. Luke and I have taken advantage of many of these perks of being on base  - they were a lifesaver during our time in our tiny TLF (temporary living facility) apartment. We also have a free "air show" almost every day with fly-overs from F15's -  Luke really enjoys the airplanes!

At the very end of November, we finally were able to move into our new home here on base. It is interesting to move into a house you have never seen before (they don't offer anything except an architectural layout online), but we have been very pleased with this house so far. Apart from the master bath being very tiny, we are enjoying the bright, spacious layout and are beginning to feel that this place is truly home. Moving into a new home while 8 months pregnant has been a little challenging for me, though. I'm thankful that Steve's new schedule has allowed him some time to do a lot of the unpacking and organizing that I don't have much energy for these days. Luke and Phoebe-the-cat both have settled into this new house very happily. After a couple of stressful months for poor princess Phoebe, she was very excited to see (and smell) familiar furniture and greeted her new space with much purring. After living in a tiny hotel-like situation for about a month, we all are very happy to finally be in a real home together again.

Steve's job has been going well so far. He is thriving (as I knew he would) in his new role, and has already had many opportunities to minister to airmen and their families. His role consists of many different things, so every day is a little different for him. He spends some time counseling people who come to him with various life challenges, he also goes out to different units to build relationships and rapport with the airmen and offer front-line encouragement and support, he will be preaching in the base chapel about once a month, and he helps with some event planning for support-related events here on base (ex. a monthly dinner for families of deployed airmen). The chaplains also provide support if a service member dies - Steve's background in hospital and hospice chaplaincy has served him well as he ministers to people in those crisis situations. I am very proud of the work he is doing, and it is a blessing to see him finally be able to work in a role that he has prepared so long and hard for. Living on base has also provided us with a lot more family time than we had in the civilian world - Steve's commute is only a couple of minutes, so he gets to come home for lunch almost every day, and Luke and I are sometimes able to join him for chapel-sponsored events on base in the evening.

Of course, not everything about our huge life change has been roses and butterflies, though. Homesickness is a real struggle, but also a reminder of how blessed we are to have great friends and family to miss so much. We loved getting Christmas cards from dear friends, but they were also a bittersweet reminder of the distance and the community we have lost. We are experiencing God's faithfulness in providing a new community for us here, though. I have been thankful for some very sweet ladies who have reached out to Luke and I for playdates - I heard the Air Force community was a welcoming one, and now I am getting to experience that for myself. It is a little taxing for me, as an introvert, to push myself out of a self-protecting mode and jump into meeting new people, but I have been very blessed by these new budding friendships. We also think we have found a new church family to become a part of - Steve was encouraged by his Chaplain superiors for us to find a church community outside of the base chapel so that we can have accountability and community outside of just the Air Force.

We are also looking forward to meeting our sweet little Lydia face-to-face in a few short weeks. This pregnancy has flown by with all of the big events and changes we have experienced lately. I am thankful that everything has gone smoothly so far (or as smoothly as pregnancy can go when you also are caring for a toddler! Haha!), and that I have been able to find a group of doctors and midwives that I really like here in Goldsboro.

Thank you for your continued prayers and support, everyone! Even if I don't always text or call back quickly (or sometimes I forget to respond back at all, and you become a causality of my baby brain), I really appreciate hearing from you - it helps me feel connected and loved during this still-crazy time of transition for us.

Some of the things are are praising God for right now are:

• Continued health in our marriage - we have been blessed with good communication and unity in our relationship during all of these big changes
• Physical health for all of us
• Our new home on base
• New friends and a church community
• Opportunities for Steve to use his gifts and training while serving airmen and their families

Things that we appreciate prayer for are:

• A healthy, safe delivery of baby Lydia and our family's transition into having a new baby
• Wisdom and strength for Steve and I as we parent Luke - he is a sweet, loving boy who brings us a lot of joy; but we are also starting to learn that he has a quick temper and is very strong-willed. Pray especially that Luke will learn to use his teeth appropriately (biting the couch, his toys, or his parents when he is frustrated is not ok!)
• Continued opportunities for us to develop relationships and community here
• Pray also for the men and women of the Air Force and that Steve will have wisdom and continued opportunities to show them the hope and love that God offers freely to everyone who trusts in him.

Shift

When I was 19 or 20, my parents provided me with a car to use while driving to college and my first nursing jobs. The 5-speed cherry red Saturn had no fancy options apart from a radio and air conditioner, so the first thing I had to learn was how to drive using a manual transmission.

In the empty parking lot of a country church, my mom took me around and around in countless circles teaching me the rhythm of clutch-shift-gas-release clutch. With much clunking and jerking, I stalled that little engine the first 1,000 times I tried to shift out of first gear. It wasn't until my mom started talking me though my clutch release by repeating "clutch, clutch, clutch..." in increasing pitch and frequency that I finally began to master the skill of shifting without stalling.

This stage in my life feels a bit like learning how to drive that Saturn. I am changing gears from balancing motherhood with a full-time nursing job to full-time stay-at-home motherhood; from civilian life to a new community as a military wife; and, in a few short months, from being the mommy of one to a mommy of both an active toddler and a newborn. Add an interstate move and temporary living situations for the next couple of months, and I suppose that it is natural to feel a little clumsy in all of these transitions. I am trying to be patient with myself as I clunk around while shifting my life's pace and rhythm.

The past few weeks have been a bit of a blur as Steve and I completed our time at our jobs in Greenville, had our house packed up and our belongings shipped to storage by the military, sold our house, said "see you later" to many dear friends, settled Luke and I at my parents for the next month, and said a very hard "see you later" to Steve as he headed to Alabama for five weeks of Air Force Commissioned Officer Training (aka COT); leadership training/military indoctrination for professionals like physicians, lawyers, and chaplains who join the Air Force.

Steve is doing well in COT. Of course, he is experiencing a lot of pressures, both physical and mental, during this training period. He knows that this is all designed to help mold him into a leader in the world's finest Air Force. Steve was chosen as the lead chaplain for his group of about 100 students, and has received positive feedback about his performance in this leadership role.  I have been pleasantly surprised that I have been able to communicate with him almost every day. We even were able to video chat for a little while over the past weekend.

2 days after Steve graduates from COT, our little family will arrive at Seymour-Johnson AFB in Goldsboro, NC. We have been offered a house on base, which is a huge answer to prayer - we are excited to have the opportunity to live in the midst of the community we will be serving, and look forward to the convenience of base living. The catch is that our new home will not be ready for us to move in until around November 27, which means that we will be in a temporary living facility (TLF) on base for a few weeks until our house is prepared for us. TLF is apparently like a one-bedroom condo, stocked with linens, cooking utensils, etc. It will be challenging to have our light-sleeping wiggle-worm of a toddler in a one bedroom house, but I know that we will all just be happy to be together again as a family.

We have been so blessed to have amazing support from our family and friends as we begin this new adventure. I know that many people are praying for us, and that has helped tremendously.

We are thankful to God for so many details of this transition including:

• The very quick sale of our house in Simpsonville (for greater than our asking price! - If anyone in Greenville needs a realtor, we have a great recommendation for you!)
• A loving new home for our dogs, who could not come with us :(
• The availability of a home on base for us
• Our health and stamina during all of these transitions, including a very smooth pregnancy so far - baby Lydia and mommy are both doing well :)
• Continued strength and harmony in our marriage while we are seperated
• Encouraging feedback for Steve during COT

We value continued prayer for:

• Our marriage - that we will continue to have healthy communication, harmony, and intimacy during this time of huge change and high stress
• Steph's transition to stay-at-home mommyhood, especially while Steve is away at training. Single parenting (even with the support of awesome grandparents and other family) is tough!
• Luke's resilience throughout all of the moving, changes, and temporary housing situations.
• Our entry into military life - that we will be able to make new friends quickly, and will have wisdom as we begin to discover the mission that God has for us at Seymour-Johnson

I will continue to try to write periodic updates for our friends and family. Writing (and pretty much anything else for that matter) is a slow process when you are chasing a 15 month old! 

Off we go!

Off we go, into the wild blue yonder!

Climbing high, into the sun...

Big changes are coming for our little family in the next few months. After about two years of working through a lengthy application process, Steve has received a commission as a Chaplain in the Air Force. This has been his goal for years, since he decided to go back to seminary for his MDiv in Chaplaincy, and we are very excited that it is coming to fruition. Right now, we know that Steve will be attending commissioned officer training (COT) during the month of October, but we do not yet have information about what base we will be stationed at. We are hoping that it will only be a couple of weeks longer before they will be able to let us know where we are going - it is a little crazy to know that you are moving somewhere in November, but have no idea where! I'm told that this hurry-up-and-wait situation is a good introduction to military life. I suppose I will have to continue to develop patience throughout this process.

Yes, I am a little nervous about all of the changes that this will bring, but I am also incredibly proud of Steve and happy that this dream is coming true. As we have talked about this over the years, my heart has also developed a calling and desire to support the men and women of the Air Force and their families. I look forward to seeing what opportunities for service and ministry will be available to me as a chaplain's wife. Also, we both very happy that this career change will allow me to step back from full-time work outside of the home and focus on being a mommy to our babies.

Yep, babies... :) We found out a couple of months ago that Luke will become a big brother sometime around early February 2019. We are very excited about this big change in our lives as well. The first trimester of this pregnancy has gone by extremely fast - having a very busy one year old to chase around definitely has made the weeks fly by!

As we step into this season of huge transitions we appreciate your prayers and support. Here are some specific things you can pray about for us:

1) We plan to sell our house - please pray that this will be a smooth process for us.

2) Pray for Steve during his time at COT - that his health will remain strong and that he will have opportunities for ministry even with his colleagues in training.

3) Pray that God will be preparing a supportive community for us wherever we are moving - I know for past experience that I can trust God to bring the friends I need into my life, but leaving our friends in Greenville is the hardest thing about this change. Joining the military feels a little like stepping into a brand new school where you don't know how to get around, you don't know the culture, and you don't even know the words (or acronyms) for everything.

4) Pray for our marriage during Steve's month of training in October as this will be the first time we have had a longer separation (and it definitely won't be the last)

5) Pray for Stephanie as she lays down her full-time career and transitions into being a stay-at-home mom. I have no delusions that stay-at-home life will be any easier, even though it is what my heart desires right now.

Thank you all for your love and support! I hope to be able to keep you all a little more updated on our life as we head out into this new adventure.

 We were so blessed to have a dear friend come to swear Steve in as an official Air Force member.

.....Nothing can stop the U.S. Air Force!

Control

I’m a bit of a control freak. You probably wouldn’t guess it by looking at my disorderly bathroom cabinet or barely-organized closet, but those closest to me would likely confirm that I work best in situations that give me some measure of control over the structure or outcome. I don’t think this is necessarily a bad thing, but I am learning that there are many things in life that I have little to no control over.

The months following my last entry on this blog have been a bit of a whirlwind. As I’m sure most of you know, we discovered that we were pregnant again just weeks after the heartbreak of our miscarriage. For the first couple months of this pregnancy, I struggled with a roller coaster of anxiety and excitement, hope and worry. After doing “everything right” with the last pregnancy, but still losing that baby, I found it hard to be motivated to do the “right things” during the early part of this new baby’s life. Taking my prenatal vitamins was less of a joy and more of a chore, especially though those early weeks of nausea. Announcing my pregnancy to family and friends was an interesting experience as well – “So, we’re pregnant again. Yeah, we are really surprised. I guess I’m happy, but mostly right now I’m scared that we will lose this baby too.”

As the weeks went by and we watched the growth and health of this child through a series of “extra” ultrasounds (they were paying close attention to my ovary – bless that cyst that allowed me to see my baby more than most moms!) we grew in confidence that this child is strong and healthy. During this time, I began to have an important lesson impressed on my heart. In many ways, I believe that the Lord was peeling back some of my control-freak nature so that I could better learn to rest in his grand plan for my life.

I can’t lay blame for my desire to have control over my life on any one thing. I think that this desire is ingrained in my human nature – something as ancient as the DNA that I inherited from the original control-freak, Eve. However, I do believe that our current culture provides me a myriad of opportunities to coddle and nurture this urge. There are so many opportunities in modern life to have control over our circumstances. We can choose from an insane variety of food to eat, places to live, educational opportunities, lifestyles, clothing…. And the list goes on and on. I venture to say that it is these choices that give us the illusion of complete control over our lives.

But despite all the choices that we are afforded in this modern life, there are still many things that we have little to no control over. Early in my current pregnancy I was impressed with the fact that there was not a single thing I could do to add one more cell to my baby’s tiny body. Yes, I could make all the right healthy choices for this pregnancy, but that was no guarantee that the child would thrive in my womb. I had to rest in the mysterious miracle of fetal development – something that science knows more about than ever, but still cannot fully explain. More importantly than that, I had to trust that the God who provided the spark of life for this child is the same Father who delights to give good gifts to his children (Matt 7:7-11).

I don’t know that I would have learned this lesson as well if I didn’t have the experience of our miscarriage before this healthy pregnancy. It is strange how pain brings important truths into crystal-clear focus. If I had simply had a uncomplicated pregnancy from the start, I believe that I would have taken some of the credit for myself – after all, I know all of the “right things” to do.

So, slowly, reluctantly, I am learning the truth of what I’ve heard since childhood – “…which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life?” (Matt 6:27) This is a lesson that I will probably be in the process of learning throughout my whole life. As I said before, I believe that my desire to control my circumstances, and by extension, the circumstances of those around me, is one of the most anciently ingrained propensities of my nature.

So, now as I am on the brink of parenthood (Happy due date, my precious baby Luke!), I hope that I can enter this new chapter of my life with a sense of trust and peace. I know that there will be many opportunities for me to grasp for control over my son’s life, but that there will be many things I simply have no control over. Not that I am advocating a “que sera, sera” philosophy of life or parenting – I still believe that we are called to make wise choices (reference the entire book of Proverbs for Biblical examples of that). But instead of trying to engineer every aspect of my life, and getting upset when things don’t go according to my best-laid plans, I want to rest in the beautiful life-giving truth of Matthew 6:24 – “Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble”.

Loved and Lost

Our first pregnancy ended in miscarriage on August 29, a mere three weeks after we had discovered the exciting news that we were going to be parents. I know that Steve and I are members of a fellowship of many other couples who have experienced this type of loss. I feel the need to share what this pregnancy loss is teaching me, both as a way for me to process what has happened, as well as a way to celebrate the significance of the tiny life I held in my womb for a few short weeks.

In the past, I wondered what it was that made early miscarriage so profoundly painful. From a distance, I watched friends and acquaintances grieve over lost pregnancies, not comprehending what it feels like to have an actual death occur within your body. Now that I have lived through this experience, I am learning to walk through a new kind of grief that I know will change me profoundly.

I am doing some reading about the grief experience during miscarriage, and I find it extremely encouraging to read about the experiences of other women. It helps me to know that I am not abnormal in the rapid development of deep love I had for my unborn child, or in the feelings (both physical and emotional) that I am experiencing. Perhaps by me sharing this story, another woman will be able to process what has occurred to her. Normalizing the experience doesn’t take the hurt away, but it makes the journey a little less frightening.

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We had been hoping for a pregnancy for several months, but secretly I was worried that pregnancy was not going to come easily for us. My doctor had assured me that a small hormonal imbalance I live with was an easily corrected issue, but I was still skeptical. After several months passed without conception, I was beginning to get a little more concerned. I found myself working to remember that ultimately God is responsible for blessing people with children, and that I am not the master of my own fertility.

When we discovered that we were expecting, on the day before my 32^nd birthday, we were elated. My parents and youngest sister were visiting that weekend, and we couldn’t wait to tell them the news. I was surprised and amazed when my mom revealed that she had already guessed that I was pregnant earlier in the week (before I even was suspicious of the fact!). She said she had “heard it in my voice” when we spoke on the phone, and she had even bought me several maternity shirts and a baby outfit as a birthday present! Over the next several days, we shared the exciting news with other immediate family members, and looked forward to the day when we would reveal our secret to our friends and extended family.

The few weeks I was pregnant were very joyful and exciting, in spite of the rapid changes my body was experiencing. We traveled to Hawaii for a much-anticipated vacation and were able to tell my sister and brother-in-law about the baby in person. We were able to take our baby snorkeling, hiking, and swimming in some of the most beautiful places on earth. We laughed that this child would probably be mad when they realized that they got to experience Hawaii, but had no memories of being there. Some nausea during our trip was a small price to pay for the joy that the discomfort constantly reminded me of.

I loved being pregnant – I felt healthy, blessed, and oh so joyful! I reveled in the things I could do to care for our baby – whether it was taking a daily vitamin or switching my beloved morning coffee for ginger-lemon tea. I was extra motivated to increase my fitness level and was excited to try out some new prenatal workout videos. Throughout the weeks of my pregnancy, I loved to place my hands over my slightly bloated abdomen and wonder about the little life growing inside of me. I enjoyed vivid dreams of holding and feeding a newborn. Steve was also extremely excited about the prospect of being a father and developed a “pregnancy glow” himself. It was so fun to see how quickly he jumped into serving and protecting me even more than usual. We even had fun beginning to look at all the baby gear we anticipated buying in the near future.

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“Feeling of impending doom.”

I remember reading about this phenomenon in nursing school. Sometimes, people who are close to the end of their life will just know it, and have a deep sense of impending doom. Thinking back to the days leading up to our miscarriage, this phrase describes pretty much how I felt.

It started with a tiny bit of blood on Thursday evening. We were at our first church community group gathering of the fall, enjoying being surrounded by friends who are our Simpsonville family. I was anticipating the joy that these friends would share with us in a couple of weeks when we let them in on our exciting secret. As soon as I saw that small streak of red, I wanted to burst into tears and throw up all at once. I told myself not to freak out, but every nerve in my body was signaling ALARM! I tried not to hurry Steve, but I just wanted to get home as soon as possible. That evening, we looked up my symptoms online (yes, doing exactly what I tell patients NOT to do…) and were reassured by several articles that said that some bleeding during the first trimester is incredibly normal. I was still worried, but put that aside and planned to call my doctor’s office in the morning to get reassurance from them as well.

Over the next few days, there was still small, intermittent cause for worry. I made a few calls to the triage nurse line at my doctor’s office, being told all the time not to worry – if I was having a miscarriage I’d “know it”. However, by Sunday morning the bleeding had worsened and that “feeling of impending doom” was growing ever stronger. So, when Steve met me in the sanctuary of church and we sat in our regular seats, I told him that I was very worried – he didn’t hesitate and decided that we would leave for the emergency department then.

It is always surreal for a nurse to be a patient. I felt the need to let the team caring for me in the ED to know my profession – perhaps that made me feel like I had a modicum of control in a situation that was quickly spiraling into chaos. Steve and I didn’t talk much – there was little to be said as we waited and waited to be seen and for tests to be run.

One thing that I am saddest about the whole experience is that Steve was not allowed to come with me when I had my ultrasound. I wish that he had been able be with me as the tech said “there’s the baby’s heartbeat”, and as she described that the baby was only measuring at 6 weeks instead of the expected 8, and as she measured that the tiny heartbeat was only plodding along at 80 BPM. I wish Steve was there to hold my hand as I was able to see the shadowy grey crescent that was the only picture of our baby, and saw the small flicker of movement that proved that another life was inside of me. As I listened to that bradycardic beat, I knew that our baby was dying. After 9 years as a neonatal nurse, I knew that the cadence of that tiny heart was much, much too slow. I will always be thankful that I had that moment with my baby while they were still alive, but I will always wish that I didn’t have to experience it alone.

We were sent home after five hours in the ED with instructions to arrange for “close follow-up” at my OB/GYN office the next day. I’m sure that the quirky but kind doc who treated me knew that our miscarriage was imminent – my lab results were ominous as well – but she didn’t have the heart to tell us the terrible news. That night, the severe cramps started, and I knew that our baby’s life was flowing out of me and there was nothing I could do to stop it. Steve and I held each other in the dark and pled with the God of the Universe both to intervene in the life of our baby, and to give us strength to accept His will no matter what it would be.

I went to work the next day, because I knew I couldn’t sit and worry at home, and because my doctor’s office is right around the corner from the hospital where Steve and I both work. I knew what the appointment I made that afternoon would confirm, but I wanted to keep hoping. When the ultrasound tech at the OB office said “I’m so sorry, there is no longer a gestational sac there,” the harsh finality came both as a blow and as an odd relief. No longer did I have to live in uncertain worry – now I could grieve what had been lost. I have never felt as completely empty as I did while walking out of that office. Where I had been filled with joy and life now there was a complete void.

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We buried what I believe to be the remains of our baby under a rosebush in a corner of our yard. I couldn’t stand the thought of our baby’s remains being flushed down the toilet or thrown away with trash. I understand that this is a common thought for women who have experienced miscarriage. I also knew that I needed something tangible to do to commemorate our baby. I am sure that I was the only person who visited Michaels that day to purchase a tiny box to serve as a casket for my unborn child, and I know the cashier may have wondered why I had red puffy eyes and a catch in my throat as I made my purchase. I chose a rosebush both because I actually do ok with keeping roses alive (ha!) and because I will see the rose as a symbol of how something can be thorny and painful and also beautiful. After Steve placed the box in the hole he had dug (a father shouldn’t have to dig a grave for his baby!) we wept and prayed together.

It has been both wonderful and terrible to grieve with my husband. It is wonderful to have someone who is intimately experiencing the same hurt I am facing, but it is terrible to see the pain that my beloved is going through. He keeps reminding me that this is not my fault, but I can’t help but feel that I have let him down somehow. I did not succeed in keeping his baby safe and healthy. I know he doesn’t blame me, but I am still having a hard time not blaming myself.

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In spite of the terrible lingering physical and emotional pain that this experience has left me with, there have been many reasons to be thankful and even joyful in these circumstances. I usually like to be a tough, self-sufficient girl who lends comfort and strength to others in their time of need, but this experience has humbled me in making me needy of the comfort and strength of others. Steve and I are so blessed to be surrounded with a whole community of people who know how to both love and grieve with us well and who point us to the Lord every day. Thank you to all of the friends and loved ones who are caring for us in so many ways.

We are experiencing the full reality of 1 Corinthians 1:3-5 as we lean on the “…God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. For as we share abundantly in Christ's sufferings, so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort too.”

I know that this grief is going to be a journey, and I know that it will change me – I hope for the better. When I discovered that I was pregnant, I prayed that I would never use our baby for my own purposes, but that I would be able to surrender them freely to the God who made them and loves them more than I ever could. I never dreamed that I would only steward that little life for a few weeks, but I know that what happened was for the best, even though it doesn’t feel that way. I will think of our baby in that way – their life and death was not meaningless, even though that life was brief and their death has brought immense pain. God allowed them to exist, and for me to know them, as a way to bring glory to Himself. I will wait with joy to see how God works beauty and glory out of this painful experience.

I will always remember my "rosebud baby."

Eager Expectation

"Oh come, oh come, Emmanuel; and ransom captive Israel, who mourns in lonely exile here, until the Son of God appears."

Today is the first day of Advent, the official season of preparation for the joy of Christmas. Of course, commercial preparations for this holiday have already been underway for over a month with “Holly, Jolly” being blasted through many major retailers as soon as the pool noodles were packed away.  Advent may feel like a bit of an afterthought, or even a reaction to the busyness of the holiday season, but it is truly an ancient tradition that predates Christmas trees, stockings, and even the works of St Nicholas. Although this holiday season is not decreed by Scripture, it traditionally has been a time for the Church to reflect on God’s faithfulness and to celebrate the mind-blowing fact that he came to earth to save humanity from our sin.

I have always liked Advent – not just because it is a way to extend the “Christmas spirit” for an entire month, but because it reminds me of several important things about God.

1)      Advent is a season of longing and waiting. It is nice to remember in this microwave-ready world that waiting is not a bad thing.

   Although we only celebrate Advent for about a month, God’s people had been waiting in expectation for thousands of years prior to the fulfillment of God’s promise through the birth of Jesus. Many generations of people lived and died waiting for the Messiah, and they no doubt wondered what God was doing. However, scripture is clear that Jesus came “at just the right time” (Romans 5:6). God’s timing is always better than our best plans.

2)      Advent reminds me that God's plans don't always work out the way I expect them to, and that he brings about his Kingdom in ways more miraculous than I could ever imagine.

To people who thought that their only hope was a military leader who would free them from Roman rule, God sent a fragile baby, born to a poor family. During the days leading up to the first Christmas, God’s people longed for freedom – and little did they know that the freedom that was coming would be of a deeper nature than mere political liberty.

This makes me wonder; what am I longing for that God is going to fulfill in a way that I could never foresee? Am I, like the first-century Israelites, looking for a solution to my longings that is the opposite of what God intends to use to accomplish his purposes?

3)      Advent can rekindle a longing for Christ’s second coming.

Sometimes when I’m overwhelmed by yet another news story about the brokenness and heartache so prevalent in this world, I find myself feeling much like I imagine the ancient Israelites felt as they awaited the messiah. Although Christ has come and we have the benefit of having a personal relationship with him, the fact of the matter is that we still live in a fallen world where things are not the way they are supposed to be. Our deepest longings for peace (true shalom) and happiness are those that can only be filled by the presence of God.

Scripture says that “creation waits in eager expectation for the children of God to be revealed.” (Romans 8:18) It is this “waiting in eager expectation” that is captured in the season of Advent. We can be reminded at this time that God has promised to return and fully make all things right and whole again.

4)      Advent helps us remember that God can show up at any moment.

As we consider the events leading up to and surrounding Christmas, we can see that God chose unlikely ordinary times to preform one of his greatest works. Mary, Joseph, and the shepherds certainly did not expect the amazing events that changed their lives forever.  In this way, we can see that God will often show up and reveal his glory to us at times we least expect him to.

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Some things are worth waiting for. As you wait for some fresh-baked Christmas cookies to come out of the oven, or wait for family to arrive at your home, or wait to open that large gift under the tree, remember how God works some of his greatest wonders during times of waiting and eager expectation.

Happy Advent and Merry Christmas!

"He who testifies to these things says, “Yes, I am coming soon.”  Amen. Come, Lord Jesus." Revelation 22:20